Haunted
by queenofomega
Summary: One-shot: Forced to shoot a teenager in a home invasion, Lindsay suddenly begins to doubt herself. Can four words from Danny bring back her confidence? Dantana/pre-marriage.


**Disclaimer: Property of CBS, only thing I own is a CSI: NY shirt from New York City.**

**Author's Note: Wow... something for you CSI: NY readers after a summer-long hiatus. I guess my trip to Manhattan sparked my creativity again. This is a short little thing I came up with last night but had to go to bed before I could get out the last two paragraphs. I think it may be a bit OOC, but I haven't been writing in awhile (other than NCIS, of course). Also, for those of you reading **The Calm Before the Storm**, I have a chapter in my mind that's waiting to be written so check back in a few days. ;D**

**Well, enjoy. Lim x  
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Haunted**

The moonlight pooled at her feet, streaming in through the open window. The carpet was stained, a dark patch that began to grow wider and wider until that pool of light looked like it had once again been covered in shadow. But shadow was not crimson.

She held the gun by its barrel, away from her body as though it was the carrier of some contagious disease. As she took an unconscious step back, she let it drop to the floor with a soft _thud_. The carpet sunk under her weight, letting the red liquid seep in between her toes. She jumped away like it was acid burning her skin. There was no need to check for a pulse; he was dead.

_He tried to kill me._

She stumbled away from the body, soft curls obscuring her view as she stumbled and let her knees give away beneath her. For one precious moment, she let herself think that there was not a body now lying in her dark living room, that it had all been a nightmare. But when she habitually pushed the curls away, there it was: lying there as if to mock her.

She was surprised the sound of gunshots had not called the attention of her neighbours. In such a small apartment building, it should have at least woken someone up. Instead, the silence was being threatened by the sound of her heart pounding in her chest. In the distance, a siren was shrieking through the air, but she was too preoccupied to pay much attention.

_I could have died._

She had killed before but never in such a situation. Previously, she had known that whoever it was could have been dangerous. This time, there was no warning. He had been standing in her living room when she walked in. She had not even had time to turn on the lamp before he ran at her. She didn't even know how he got in.

Reaching into her pocket, she drew out her cell phone and clutched it tightly in her hand so that her knuckles went white. She nearly forgot that one had to actually open the phone and dial a number to get a hold of someone. At that moment, she just willed him to know something was wrong.

Trembling, she managed to dial his number and put the phone on speaker. She heard the phone ringing on the other end and she prayed he would pick up, almost crying out in delight when she heard his voice on the other end.

"Linds, it's two in the mornin'… can't it wait?"

She barely managed to choke out his name before she began to drown in her own tears. At first he had sounded half-asleep, but as she continued to cry, he said her name with increased alertness over and over. She could not speak but managed to stop crying when she heard him promise to be right over.

Hanging up the phone, Lindsay crossed her legs and sat on the floor, trying to sort out her memories, unsure of where each of the events should have been placed. It had all happened so fast that she wasn't entirely sure what she had done. All she knew was that she had killed the man in her living room.

On further inspection, even with no light, Lindsay could tell that the pale and still features belonged to a boy, not a man. She drew in a sharp breath when she saw that he was no older than sixteen or seventeen. As she thought back, she realized that she should have noticed the broken glass beside the window leading to the fire escape; the crazed look in his eyes suggesting that drugs had forced him to do things he would have later regretted, had he had the chance to live another day. She should have considered the fact that he was too young to die.

_What would he have been like?_

In the background, she heard the _click_ of her front door being opened and she could see out of the corner of her eye that a dim lamp had been turned on. She was in tears again when Danny found her, curled up on the carpet, now stained with salty tears and blood that made it smell like iron.

His gun was drawn, but he hastily put it away when nothing but the body and a terrified Lindsay was amiss. He dropped into a crouch and pulled her into his arms, at the same time picking up her phone and sending a message to Mac. Sobbing she confessed to him:

"I could've… sh-shot him in the… the leg… he didn't h-have… to die…"

Danny rubbed her back and held her close. She had her face turned toward his chest so all he could see was her hair. Something about the berry smell calmed him, making it easier to comfort his partner. _Wild Berry Madness_ shampoo, he remembered.

They sat in silence for what seemed like hours, but in reality was only ten minutes. Danny had no intention of judging her, he just stared at the body that was going to leave one killer mess on the carpet. He didn't ask what happened; it wasn't important. What was important was that Lindsay was safe. He waited with her until they heard footsteps running through the hallway outside, then into the apartment. Mac stood in the doorway and beckoned for Danny to join him.

Stella moved toward Lindsay, switching places with Danny. She greeted Lindsay with a sympathetic hug, then waited out a third wave of tears. Danny stood and watched for a moment. Mac called him into the other room, but Danny had to say four words first.

"Never doubt yourself, Montana."

For the first time that night, Lindsay looked up with bright eyes and a smile.

**Fin.**


End file.
